NB: Sensitive readers tread lightly.

Story Warnings: Incest, Language, Sensitive Religious Content, MalexMale

Movie Verse: First Movie; Pre Canon - Canon / Canon Deviation

Authors Note: This is my attempt at a Boondock Saints incest story between Conner and Murphy MacManus, I won't say it's realistically portrayed because that depends on the readers views.

Sub Note – As per the year and the events taking place in the movie, I have tried to keep the timeline accurate. Below is the timeline:

[The year the movie was based in was 1999 (as shown in the newspaper Murphy reads during the police station scene). That set St. Patrick's Day (March 17) as a Wednesday. The Twins would have spent the Thursday night in the police station after the Chekov incident and would leave the station on Friday morning (the date confirmed in the newspaper during the police station scene). The Russian mafia men would have been executed that Friday night (as per the details of the call Connor made) and it would have been on the Saturday morning/afternoon that Rocco would have driven by the Sin Bin with Connor and Murphy to tell them about Vincenzo.]

-The AO3 story upload has additional images

Chapter Six

You could be my favourite faded fantasy...

Fat Motherfucker Vincenzo, their second chosen target suggested to them by Rocco, would only be at the Sin Bin adult parlor four days from then, so they'd spent Saturday afternoon in a diner looking through the newspaper for apartments to rent since all three of them were technically homeless after Rocco's stunt.

Connor had to admit that having a surplus of money was great. The money they took from the nine mobsters they'd executed was going to fund them for a while, it would have lasted even longer if they didn't need to find an apartment and start paying rent, but it would still do for the time being.

As it was with cash on hand, it didn't take long to find an apartment and by that Saturday early evening they'd found one that was furnished, a one bedroom, kitchen, lounge, bathroom, with two beds, a fridge, stove, a small kitchen table and chair set and two small double sofas. Aside from the basic furnishings and amenities they had the random shit they'd taken in a hurry from Rocco's place, which included a clothes iron oddly enough. And thereafter they bought the next necessary things…from the nearest liquor store, so they were stocked up with beer, whiskey, Pepsi's and cigarettes.

The weekend, which included Monday when it came to drinking with Rocco, went by in a drunken blur and by Tuesday Connor was starting to wish Rocco could find somewhere else to live. He loved Rocco, they were friends and despite bad choices and a few bad traits the Italian had, Roc was a good guy.

But Connor needed his sanctuary, his privacy, where he was alone with Murphy so if they wanted to talk they could and if they didn't they could sit in comfortable silence, or they could pray together. Whatever they wanted to do, they could do alone, in private.

No matter how strange it was recently for Connor, he still wanted it.

But Rocco was around all the time now, sleeping on their sofa, sitting at their kitchen table sometimes before they even woke up, eating left over takeout and it was getting to be a bit much. Still, Connor would endure, because while he missed his and Murphy's time alone, Rocco did provide a distraction from his incestuous thoughts and since the feelings were getting easier to manage, as if he were coming to terms with it, he felt like having someone's presence being there to keep him in check was a good thing.

Presently Connor was pulling his coat on, Rocco was smoking in the kitchen, hung over with his head in his hands and Murphy was still asleep. Connor had woken up first and had been quiet purposely so as not to wake Murphy because he was going to go out to be alone for a while. He would have preferred Murphy being with him but if it wasn't a possibility, because Rocco would likely tag along if Murphy was, he wasn't going to deny himself the peace.

He walked by Rocco on his way out and smirked at the Italian's state, smacking him on the back of his head as he passed and grinning when Rocco groaned and held the side of his head, mumbling a 'fuck you man' in a pained voice. Connor stifled a snicker and headed for the door, pulling it open before he checked his pockets for his wallet, smokes and his set of keys and then he stepped out and closed the door quietly behind himself.

He made his way down the hall, appreciating how much nicer the apartment building was compared to their former one, before he stopped at the small lift, hitting the scratched up button at the side so it lit up and then he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Connor glanced back down the hallway when a door opened, he expected it would be one of their new neighbors but he raised his eyebrows when he saw Murphy step out of their apartment.

Connor held his breath and balled his fists inside his coat pockets as his sleep mussed , half-dressed sibling approached him with squinted eyes and an annoyed frown,

"What the fuck, Connor?" he asked a bit raspily, voice still sleepy, once he'd come to stand near enough, less than a meter away.

Connor deliberately looked away to the lift doors, not having the strength to keep his eyes from wandering over Murphy's naked torso, all the way down to where his jeans was only zipped and not buttoned and the waistband of his boxer shorts was visible.

"What?" he asked back as evenly as possible.

Murphy hit his shoulder once and then again so he was shoved back against the wall beside the elevator,

"…the fuck is yer' problem, Connor, yeh' were just gonna' go off somewhere an' not even tell me?"

Connor frowned and chose not to shove back, instead he just raised a hand from his pocket and gestured at Murphy,

"Murph, stop being so overdramatic, I'm takin' a fuckin' walk, yeh'll be fine fer' five minutes without me, yeh' don't need me te' wipe yer' arse." He said irritably to mask his own uneasiness.

Murphy narrowed his eyes and Connor thought he might say something but instead he just pushed his jaw out a bit, a sign that he was pissed off and then he just turned around and walked away, disappearing back into the apartment and slamming the door loudly.

Connor slumped against the wall, wondering if the best course of action would have just been to invite Murphy to come with him, after all, that's what he would have preferred.

His second guessing was interrupted by the lift arriving and with a hesitant glance back down the hall, Connor stepped into the elevator.

Connor's mood hadn't improved after his 'walk', which he'd returned from a few hours later, having spent the Tuesday afternoon in a bar he'd never been in, watching an American football game which hadn't been too shitty. It still didn't improve after the nap he'd taken, or after the beer and whiskey and all of Rocco's tales of mafia. And Murphy had decided not to talk to him which was frustrating and unsettling and totally deserved, so Connor left him alone.

You could be my favourite taste
To touch my tongue...

Wednesday afternoon, the twins and Rocco were sitting around the small table in the light mint green and white kitchen.

Connor and Murphy were drinking sodas as they cleaned, rechecked and loaded their Berettas, sitting side by side with Rocco across from them, drinking a beer, all three of them smoking and there was no conversation. Murphy had started talking to Connor again that morning, but only to ask him if Rocco could go with them on the hit. Connor had said 'no' and Murphy had wanted to discuss it but he'd walked away and since then his twin's anxiousness and frustration were heavy in his own mind and it was starting to stress Connor out since he felt the tension of it in his shoulders, neck and at the base of his skull.

And he hated how distant he felt from Murphy.

But they had business to attend to and so he had to clear his mind.

Rocco had told them all about Fat Motherfucker Vincenzo and they had agreed to execute him that night.

Murphy paused in loading his magazine to pick his cigarette up from the ashtray and bring it to his lips, he was restless and Connor looked at him right then because he felt it like a shift in the air, Murphy had something he wanted to say and when he looked at Connor they remained that way for a few seconds, making eye contact, trying to level with one another, to apologize and forgive wordlessly, but Rocco interrupted.

"I can't fucking believe those bastards, 18 fucking years…fuck!" Rocco exclaimed and shook his head, wild hair swinging and Connor looked to him at the same time as Murphy did before they both turned back to what they were doing with their guns.

"You guys were fucking right, fuck, you told me that that was how shit was, shit…" Rocco went on, hitting the heel of his hand to his head and Connor offered him an amused smile, "…man, I nearly fucked up good huh…?" Murphy nodded with a lopsided smile as he loaded bullet after bullet.

Soft click after soft click…

…their minds distracted by one another.

Rocco sighed then, just when Connor was attaching the suppressor to his second pistol,

"I need to take a fucking shower, I fucking stink man, you guys mind? I mean you guys know what you're doing with the guns and shit, you don't need my help right…?" he asked with a gestured thumb over his shoulder and then to the weapons.

Murphy snorted out a laugh and touched his nose to tease Rocco about him smelling bad,

"O'course Roc…do us a favor would yeh'." he gestured with his chin for Rocco to go ahead, hands busy as he clicked his second magazine in and Connor just nodded, also gesturing with a tip of his head.

Connor waited until he heard the bathroom door shut before he placed his gun down and grabbed the cigarette pack, lighting up two at once and handing one to Murphy since he'd finished his previous one, then,

"What's bothering yeh', Murph?" he addressed the niggling distraction in the back of his mind that was Murphy's discontent and his twin looked at him for a few seconds, elbow up on the table and cigarette held aloft,

"Et's you." He said simply.

Connor looked at Murphy with a deep frown, his unloaded Beretta was cool under the palm of his free hand as he absently fiddled with it, his attention focused on the way Murphy was worrying his bottom lip with his tongue,

"Me?" Connor asked as he forced himself to look Murphy in the eye.

He was slipping. It was getting far too easy to look and feel and want.

"Aye, Connor, I can feel that this is botherin' yeh'…bringing Rocco in, et's been on yer' mind since this morning after I asked yeh' about him coming along." He went straight to the point in low tones even though they could hear the shower water running, "What is et', yeh' don't trust him?"

Connor sighed and propped his elbows on the table as he leaned in closer to his twin, relieved that that was all Murphy sensed to be the problem,

"He's reckless Murph, yeh' know I love Roc, yeh' know I do, but he does really stupid shit sometimes…" Connor emphasized by tapping his finger to the side of his head, "…he doesn't think, he's too impulsive an' that can be dangerous fer' all of us." Murphy rubbed his fingers irritably over his chin before taking a drag from his smoke and Connor pressed on, "Am I wrong, tell me' if yeh' think I'm fuckin' wrong?"

Murphy exhaled quickly and turned to him again, bringing their faces pretty damn close, so much so that Connor could smell the cigarette smoke and feel the warmth of Murphy's breath against his face, his mouth, his chin.

Just like in that fucking dream. Shit.

"Yer' not wrong, okay, I know he doesn't always think, Connor…" he said firmly, eyes sharp and serious as he gestured with his burning cigarette between them, "…but he'll be with us."

Connor swallowed tensely and shifted his cigarette between his fingers before he smoked from it, leaning back from Murphy slightly so he could get his bearings and take a breath that wasn't shared directly with his twin,

"We can't baby sit him, we have te' take care of ourselves." He said quietly and firmly.

Murphy sighed, smoke streaming out of his nose after the long drag he'd just taken and then he worried his lower lip with his tongue again and Connor imagined himself leaning in, catching Murphy's tongue and bottom lip in a sensual suckle and then tasting his mouth with a slow kiss.

He looked away, swallowing heavily as he rubbed his hand over his face and then his mouth.

He heard Murphy sigh again and then pat his shoulder to get his attention and Connor forced himself to look at Murphy,

"Just give him a chance, Conn, let him prove us wrong."

"Or right…" Connor added gruffly.

"Aye, fine, or right, whatever, just let him try, yeah?" he half rolled his eyes.

They locked eyes and Connor sighed, Murphy was too gorgeous for his own good, with those eyes that he had, eyes that asked worlds of Connor without saying a word. Connor dropped his gaze to Murphy's lips and while his twin seemed to notice he didn't say anything about it,

"Alright, he can come with us tonight." He conceded and turned his head and gaze away.

Connor saw the grin on his twin's face even from a side angle but was surprised when Murphy hooked an arm around his shoulders and yanked him closer so he could place a kiss to the side of Connor's head, against his hair. Connor reached up absently to pat the side of Murphy's face but in a moment of driven desire to do more, he grasped Murphy's face instead and turned so they were face to face again.

Quickly and with just a single press and well aligned placement, Connor kissed Murphy a little more inward than to the corner of his mouth. The contact of his and Murphy's lips sent a jolt of heat through his nerves, also the slightly rough texture of the hair above Murphy's top lip against Connor's lip and the small raise of his mole felt as Connor's thumb brushed over it were sweet things that would be imprinted in Connor's mind until the day he died. He was hopeful it would stay with him in hell, especially the memory of the softness of his twin's lips, and the smoothness that surprised him. It also surprised him like liquid heat through his veins to feel lingering moisture transferred from his twin's lips to his own and to have felt the hitch in Murphy's breath.

Their eyes met with their lips touching just so.

And Connor stopped breathing while Murphy slowly started to frown.

Christ Almighty, that five second kiss was as bad and wrong and sick as any non-platonic kiss could be between blood brothers and Connor drew back suddenly, his hand landing on Murphy's shoulder to pat him roughly once in a forced brotherly gesture as he looked away. Connor felt cold in his face because he'd probably paled when he realized what he'd done, he'd just been saying how reckless Rocco was, only to be an extreme example of recklessness himself.

Stupid so stupid. His body was too warm. Everywhere it shouldn't be.

Connor was grateful and relieved when Rocco reappeared in the doorway at that exact moment wearing only his jeans and socks and his wet mop of hair made him look a bit like a wet dog, a wet dog with excellent timing,

"This place ain't bad, the waters fucking hot…" he said approvingly as he came over and pulled up a chair again.

Connor was hyper aware of Murphy's movements, his twin crushing his cigarette filter into the ashtray then rubbing his fingers over his mouth before his hand lingered there and Connor decided he needed to give himself some space when Murphy's tongue did a single slide across his lips, an absent action but for Connor it was too much,

"A shower sounds good." He said as evenly as possible, thinking of a cold shower.

He stood up and left the room with no obvious hurry or discomfort but inside he was both dizzy and anxious with his feelings because he had no idea what reaction to expect from Murphy over what he'd done.

What he did know, and he was afraid of, was that the next time they were alone, Murphy would ask him just what the fuck he'd been doing when he kissed him.

And God help him, Connor didn't know how he'd answer.

That night the execution went well enough.

After they'd all cleaned up, dressed and prepared, Connor had forced himself to behave as normally as possible, forced himself to get his act together. And Rocco had certainly made the experience of their second job interesting in a funny sort of way.

Then again, the entire scenario was far less serious than the nine Russian mobsters they'd executed the week before. In comparison, killing a couple of perverts while they were jerking off was hilarious in a lot of ways.

Connor tried not to count himself in with those low lives though, his type of perversion, his incestuous feelings, were different and yes, worse in some dark ways, but not as impure, not vile and as violating as what the men in the adult parlor were doing. Connor loved Murphy, loved him with every bit of his heart and soul and mind, with every breath and thought and action. It wasn't some twisted sexual thing for him, so he would not think of himself as the same as the perverts they'd killed that night, because no matter what, he would never cross certain lines and he'd never look upon Murphy as those men did those women.

Murphy was his everything.

And while the idea of gratifying himself to mental images of Murphy had crossed his mind several times since that damned dream, Connor had chosen celibacy before and had recently vowed to it properly with his brother, so he used that promise between them to strengthen his resolve not to masturbate. If he hadn't been doing it all these years, he saw no reason to now.

Admittedly the sexual feelings he was developing is what scared him most, they were the feelings that set aside every other feeling he had for Murphy, feelings he had never thought too close or too intimate until recently. More and more each day Connor was starting to see that the way he'd always felt for Murphy was a bit too much, a bit more than it should be. A little more each day Connor was realizing that the dream had basically just opened up Pandora's Box for him, and now he had to face it, he had to face his own feelings.

Feelings he didn't want Murphy to know about and yet he'd been foolish enough to kiss his twin on the lips.

Connor took a sip of his beer where he sat at the table in the kitchen and he glanced over to where Murphy and Rocco were animatedly talking about the evening's activities in the small lounge. The entire place was covered in a cloud of smoke and it already smelled like liquor and cigarettes and other trace scents of takeout food, gun cleaning solvent and sweat.

Connor closed his one eye as he took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a few seconds later and continuing to watch Murphy imitate the way Rocco had used their Beretta's to shoot the other two scum bags, besides Vincenzo, that had been in the club. Connor hadn't thought it was a good idea to let Rocco do any shooting and he'd tried to brush Rocco off when he'd asked, but then Murphy had asked him to give Rocco a shot.

And well, Connor had been feeling all fucked up over what had happened in the kitchen that afternoon and he hadn't wanted to argue or have a side discussion with Murphy on why it wasn't a good idea, so he'd given in.

He huffed out a small laugh as he listened to Murphy making fun of Rocco for his bad shooting, his twin looked happy and he was clearly enjoying himself in their new jobs and in their present company. Rocco was half drunk again and the first thing Connor had done once they returned to the apartment was unload all the guns, which were spread out and in pieces on the table in front of him, cleaned and waiting to be reassembled.

He hadn't been willing to take any chances on Rocco's drunkenness after Murphy came close to being shot the last time.

Connor watched as Murphy and Rocco got into a wrestling match and naturally Murphy had Rocco shoved face first into the couch with his weight on Rocco's back after a short tousle.

Aside from Rocco being drunk, the man wasn't a fighter whereas Murphy and himself were, and they were fucking good at it, especially when they were drinking, they tended to fight even better.

He watched Murphy laugh as he held Rocco down, practically sitting on him and Murphy did that thing where he worried his tongue over his bottom lip, mouth open and eyes focused, always without fail whenever he was full of energy or feeling restless, he did that thing and Connor loved and hated it.

He smiled sadly to himself before finishing off his cigarette and then his beer, he had no way of checking the time but he could guess it was probably well after two AM and he was feeling tired, not so much physically as emotionally.

Connor rubbed a hand over his face before getting up from his chair and walking through the kitchen door into the short hall that led to the bedroom and bathroom. He didn't look back to the lounge, with the guns in pieces and their ammo in a bag kept in the bedroom, he felt confident enough leaving the other two men unattended.

While Murphy wasn't careless himself with the guns when they were loaded, there was a chance he wouldn't stop Rocco from being stupid, so better safe than sorry.

When he entered the bedroom, Connor pulled his shirt off and then his rosary, mumbling a quick prayer before crossing himself, kissing the cross and then hanging it on the nail above his bed where someone before him had probably hung a rosary. There were nails in the wall above both beds. He didn't bother to get completely undressed, he just removed his boots and belt and then fell onto his bed with a heavy sigh.

You could be my poison, my cross...

Connor stood face to face with Murphy, his blue eyes were sharp and focused on Connor's own, his fair skin seemed so white and matte against the dark blurry background and it was cold in whatever room they were in.

Connor frowned, noticing how close they stood…they were shirtless, all matching tattoos visible on unblemished skin and he could smell Murphy's warm skin, Connor recognized the scent distinctly from some point in time when he'd noted it.

He wanted to say Murphy's name, a question, but the sound never came, instead his eyes trailed down to Murphy's lips and Murphy watched him closely, just a finger length away, his soft breathing could be felt on Connor's face. Connor tried to tell himself not to but he still leaned in anyway, closing the gap between them, pressing his lips to Murphy's as he'd done just recently, except more directly and firmly, his lips puckered lightly and he inhaled quietly at the closer than close sensation of it.

Murphy watched him, he didn't move, he didn't respond, he no longer breathed.

And then Connor heard a dual clicking sound of two guns being cocked –it echoed too loudly- followed a second later by the cold press of two barrels being placed under Connor's jaw firmly and Murphy's blue eyes darkened, narrowing slightly.

Connor swallowed tensely, his body rigid and his eyes burning with the sudden need to cry, the blood in his veins felt frozen cold.

Murphy's eyes reflected judgment as he stared Connor down, it was the exact way he looked when he and Connor were about to shoot evil men.

It hit Connor then, like the wind being knocked from him…that Murphy was about to judge him…because he was an evil man, a sick man…a man who coveted his own brother.

Murphy's eyes were cold now, and Connor saw it in those stunning blue eyes, the damnation, and he heard the words echo in his mind, Evil Man, Dead Man.

Murphy didn't draw back when he spoke, his lips moving against Connor's,

"An' Shepherds we shall be, fer' thee, my Lord, fer' thee." He said quietly, never breaking eye contact, "Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands." And with every word his breath ghosted over Connor's lips, slipped into his slightly opened mouth, "So we shall flow a river forth to Thee, And teeming with souls shall et' ever be."

For Connor everything was spinning, he couldn't take a breath, every word echoed loudly and he couldn't look away… and then everything just went silent when Murphy paused.

He blinked slowly, kissed Connor's cheek just beside his mouth chastely and then drew back,

"In Nomeni Patri Et Fili…Spiritus Sancti."

Click. Click.

...my razor blade...

Connor jerked awake, taking in a short silent breath of air as he sat up halfway in his bed, resting his weight on his elbows.

His heart was pounding painfully in his chest and his ears were ringing with the sound of gunshots that had not really been fired, it had been a dream…a fucking nightmare.

"Jesus Christ…" he breathed out quietly as he sat up fully, hunching forward and drawing his legs up for balance before he cuffed a hand through his hair and then ran it down his face.

"Connor?" Murphy's sleep groggy voice came from his right and Connor removed his hand from his face and glanced over at his twin who was leaning up on one elbow and frowning at him from his bed just a few feet away, he was also stripped down to his jeans, his rosary hanging above his bed.

Connor knew his dream had probably woken his twin through their connection, because he hadn't made any noise in waking. He also knew it because on the rare occasion Murphy had dreams or nightmares Connor usually felt his sleep disturbed, it was always hard to explain, but it was just how it was between them.

"I'm fine, Murph." He said by way of an answer before he looked away from Murphy, his dream still playing over and over again in his head and making him feel worried and sick.

Was that how Murphy would see him…as an evil man?

He sniffed and coughed a bit, staring at the early daylight filtering in through the closed curtains of their bedroom and wondering if the nightmare was a sign that he should be stronger and keep himself in check.

No more slip ups.

Connor heard Murphy sigh and flop back down on his bed, then from out of his peripheral he saw his twin draw his legs up before pulling himself up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Connor did the same then, there would be no going back to sleep anyway.

Murphy had pulled on his shirt by the time Connor was about to do the same and he paused with his arms in his sleeves, ready to pull it over his head when his eyes locked with Murphy's, as they usually did when they needed to sync up, to know that the other was alright, that everything was in order.

But Connor couldn't hold Murphy's gaze for as long as he usually did, not after having just seen those eyes in his nightmare right before dream Murphy had put two bullets into his head. So he averted his eyes downward and pulled his shirt on before getting up, aware of Murphy sitting and watching him, breathing evenly, appearing calm but Connor could feel his sadness and worry.

He didn't linger there to wait for Murphy to confront him, Connor left the room after grabbing his rosary and he put it over his head as he entered the kitchen and then walked into the lounge to wake Rocco up.

Connor didn't acknowledge how heavy and cold his rosary felt around his neck, all he knew was that he needed coffee and there wasn't any in the apartment.

So he tossed Rocco's coat onto his body where he was passed out on the sofa, waking him roughly and told him to get up.

Connor then doubled back to the bathroom to freshen up, leaving a confused Rocco without an explanation.

Connor was staring at Rocco from across the table in a coffee shop a half hour later, worrying the inside of his lip with his teeth as he hunched over his coffee cup. Murphy sat beside him, his posture and unrested appearance wasn't much better than Connor's but he looked focused and taken in by Rocco's tale of the family killing bastard he'd once done a job with.

It sounded to Connor like a tricky and unfortunate situation to have been in but he didn't really feel bad for Rocco having had to witness that, the man had made a choice to get involved with the mob at a young age, so he had known what he was getting into, or at least he should have.

He was just picking his coffee up when Murphy spoke,

"Well, I'm sold." His twin said surely, quietly and he glanced at Connor, but Connor didn't look at him, not wanting to see that glint of judgment in Murphy's eyes, whether it was for him or not.

Even the idea of it sent an unpleasant shiver down Connor's spine.

Connor sipped the hot, bitter coffee and it went down sorely as he swallowed.

Despite knowing that the family killing man needed to be executed, he didn't feel sorry for Rocco, not like his twin did…but right then Rocco was looking at him and Connor realized they were waiting for his approval because it had to be a yes from both twins, or nothing went ahead.

So he played along, because the bastard did need to die one way or another,

"Don't worry Roc, we'll do this guy right an' you'll feel a lot better." He said evenly, nodding and briefly glancing at Murphy and then back to Rocco before he dropped his eyes to the table and turned his cup round absently, his fingers gripping the rim.

Rocco smiled and nodded, his shaggy hair hanging in his face,

"Thanks man, you guys, both of you…you fucking guys will be legends one day." He praised quietly, his usual enthusiasm heavy in his voice.

Murphy was smiling slightly, lips turned up at the corners as he sipped his coffee and Connor chose to put his mind to trying to formulate a plan because that was what he did, he planned.

That, and he needed to keep his mind busy.

"Tell us about this poker game, Roc."

They had less than two days to wait before Saturday, when they'd be able to execute their next target at his poker game. They talked it through properly that Thursday morning after they went back to the apartment and Conner had had some time to think on it.

Connor's plan consisted of hiring a van to get them there and to wait in since it would be a daytime job and also getting Rocco a gun, because he was going to be a constant in their executions now so he'd need a weapon of his own. His plan also required waiting until the child of the killer was no longer in the house and so that meant that if they waited all day Saturday and the boy didn't leave, the execution would not go down.

Murphy readily agreed and so did Rocco.

When Connor was going over ideas of how to remove the wife from the situation after she'd served her purpose, Rocco had blurted out that they should just knock her out with a hit to the head. Connor hadn't even had to say anything, Murphy had not only flicked his still burning cigarette filter at Rocco but then he'd stood up, reached across the table and smacked the side of Rocco's head, calling him a 'fucking idiot.'

Indeed he was.

There would be no unprovoked violence on any innocent people.

So Connor suggested a stun gun and Murphy agreed, as did Rocco with a sheepish nod.

Later that same day, after a lunch which consisted of Chinese takeout, beer and cigarettes, Conner restated that he and Murphy needed to see their weapons contact about getting Rocco a gun.

He'd been worried when Rocco asked if he could come along, that Murphy would say yes and then look to him for affirmation and Connor would not give it and then they'd be fighting again. But Murphy surprised him by saying no to Rocco, telling him in that nice, calm, teasing way that Murphy did so well that, 'I don't think he'd appreciate us bringing a former mafian wop into his Irish gun keep, Roc.'

Rocco had flipped him off and grumbled about it halfheartedly but he'd accepted it as the final decision.

Presently Connor and Murphy were inside the weapons cage, they'd already paid the guy for what they needed and he'd seemed almost happy to see them, there'd been a look on his face as though he knew who they were.

Then again, considering the weapons they'd purchased, the timing of the mafia murders and with how quickly word could get around in South Boston, he supposed maybe the man did know who they were.

"What should we get him, same as ours?" Murphy asked as he packed a proper balaclava for Rocco into a black duffle bag. Connor handed him a pair of leather gloves to put in the bag and then he looked at the gun walls, seeing that the spots where they'd taken their Berettas from had been filled but the guns weren't the same, they were Taurus PT92's.

Connor reached up and took one down, opening it up, checking the magazine and the hammer and then Murphy moved to stand next to him, having added a gun holster to the bag along with the necessary boxes of bullets, he placed it on the counter in front of them.

"Et's close enough…" Murphy said and he and Connor looked at each other in agreement, so Murphy reached up for the second one displayed on the wall and he did a quick check of it before placing it in the bag, "…et' takes more ammo." He pointed out.

"Aye…plus one in the chamber." Connor noted and placed the one he held in the bag as well before he looked at Murphy, "Do we need more bullets?" he asked since they were on the subject.

Murphy paused and looked at him and then he rubbed his chin,

"We should get just in case." He shrugged.

Connor nodded and they grabbed four more boxes of bullets each.

Then Murphy snickered,

"Rocco is kind of a bad shot, extra would be a good idea." He teased and Connor laughed quietly with him as they made their way out of the cage.

They left the weapons dealer in good spirits and stopped in at a diner to get some coffee and have a smoke, putting the duffel bag under the table near the wall and out of sight.

At that moment Murphy was lightly rubbing his 'Aequitas' tattooed finger along the seam of his lips as he thought about something or the other and Connor had been trying not to stare, focusing rather on skimming the newspaper that a previous customer had left on table. There was some news on their former executions but from what he could tell the police had nothing on them, he smiled around his cigarette as he set the newspaper down to pick up his coffee.

Murphy chose that time to strike up conversation,

"We need te' go te' church, Connor." He said quietly, his eyes settled on Connor's when he looked at his twin, "Et's been almost two weeks." He added.

Whereas usually it was four times a week minimum.

Connor understood Murphy's unsettle, while he hadn't been going to mass as often when he'd first been dealing with his new disturbing feelings for Murphy, he had still been going at least once a week. So he also felt the lack of that routine in their lives, that and a few other things that had been simple but a part of their days. Like cold showers a few times a week due to their shitty living conditions, eating toast for supper and drinking bad coffee on hung over mornings. He and Murphy just sitting on their ratty mattresses, talking, just talking sometimes for hours over beers and smokes about life, Ireland and their Ma and the people they used to call family and friends.

And praying, they'd had the privacy to pray, together or separately, they'd go to church whenever they wanted to, not just when they felt they had to.

Connor missed McGinty's too.

But missing those things was not enough to make him regret what they'd chosen and as Connor looked at Murphy right then, as they communicated without words, Connor realized that Murphy wasn't regretting their new life style, he was simply missing church and the peace it brought him.

And Connor felt it for him, somewhat literally, since his brother's sadness often weighed on his own mood to some degree, but even so, that didn't change one simple fact,

"Murphy, yeh' know we can't."

Murphy sighed out a stream of smoke from his nose and scratched at the fading scar above his right eye before he propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward,

"Conne-…"

"Murph…" Connor cut him off, showing his empathy with his expression as he leaned forward as well and spoke very quietly, the cigarette smoke mingling between them, "We'd be fuckin' idiots te' walk into a church when the police are lookin' fer' two devout Irish catholic men in South Boston. Those are probably the first places they started monitoring after-…"

"I know that," Murphy cut him off, his eyes narrowing but not in anger, just upset, "but we need to Connor, I can feel et'…" his tone was quiet too and when he licked his lips Connor averted his gaze a bit obviously and cuffed his free hand through his hair, "…I know yeh' haven't been too interested in going lately, but we need to." He repeated, leaning as far as he comfortably could across the table, tilting his head to try and see Connor's face since he'd bowed his head slightly.

"Look at me, Connor." He said quietly, evenly.

Connor swallowed tensely, he knew he shouldn't be so weak that he couldn't even face Murphy, but it was difficult when he put his face that close, especially after having just about kissed those lips as well as that latest nightmare. But Murphy's tone was serious and quietly imploring and Connor didn't want to put his brother off again, so he forced himself to look at Murphy…their faces a hand's length apart, as his twin scrutinized him, "I can't go alone, Connor, et' doesn't feel right." He said softly.

Connor stared at him until his eyes started to wander to Murphy's lips so he closed them instead and nodded,

"Okay, we'll go…but not today, Murph." He leaned back slowly in his seat and opened his eyes to find Murphy staring at the table top as he leaned back as well, "Soon as we're done with this job we'll drive into Back Bay or South End an' go te' a church there, sometime in the week, but not during a mass, alright?" He offered a logical idea.

Murphy put his cigarette out in the ashtray as he nodded before running his index finger along the shell of his ear absently,

"Aye, that's fine." He mumbled.

"Don't be mad at me, Murphy…" Connor said irritably, feeling stressed out, "…this is what we chose."

"I'm not mad about church, Connor." Murphy said with a sharp look at him and Connor tried hard to smile as he dropped his burned out cigarette into the ashtray.

"What then?"

He really didn't know, but he was sure Murphy had a lot to be pissed off about. It still amazed Connor that his twin had yet to bring up the kiss incident. Connor felt like he was walking on egg shells, just waiting for the confrontation and all the while trying to stay calm and behave normally.

It was exhausting…

Murphy dropped cash on the table and then grabbed the duffel bag as he sighed,

"Just forget et'." He said as he stood up and waited for Connor to get up too.

Not knowing what else he could do besides ask more questions to which he didn't want answers, Connor just got up and left the diner with Murphy to head back to the apartment.

His mind buzzing and his heart heavy….and the distance between them growing.

...I could love you more than life
If I wasn't so afraid.